


Someone You Loved

by robin_X3



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, And Makoto is hopelessly in love, Angst, Asphyxiation, Fantasizing, Hurt No Comfort, Laurent is Makoto's dad's friend, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, No confidence men universe, Non-Linear Narrative, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Praise Kink, Smut, Timeskips, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_X3/pseuds/robin_X3
Summary: Makoto wasn't jealous that his very handsome, and much older crush was right there at his doorstep, flirting with his mother. Nope. Not at all.Makoto Edamura is too young to be helplessly in love with his father's friend- Laurent Thierry
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Laurent Thierry, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 42
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: underage-Makoto with a crush on **much** -older-Laurent!  
> Please read the tags for more warnings. :)

Makoto looked at his reflection in the mirror, wincing at the messy bird’s nest his hair decided to organize itself into. Struggling with his unruly locks for another precious minute, Makoto had to break away from the mirror as the bell rang again. “COMING!” He yelled from atop the stairs, and, blowing on his palm and sniffing it to make sure his breath didn’t stink, Makoto bounded down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

“Don’t run down the stairs!” Makoto’s mother called from the kitchen.

“I’m not!” He called back, obviously a lie, but there were more important things at play here, namely, his impression on their esteemed guest.

Taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, Makoto forced his overzealous smile to tone down a smidge, and opened the door wide. “Welcome to the Ozaki household! I’m Makoto Edamura!”

“Good afternoon Edamame kun. I’m Laurent Thierry. You might not remember me- I’m your father’s colleague.”

“I know,” Makoto bit his tongue. 

“Hahaha. Do you now?” Laurent ruffled his hair, and Makoto fought the blush that threatened to take over his cheeks. “How old are you now? 10?”

“I’m 13!” _Nice slip up, dumb Makoto. He doesn’t need to know you’re practically obsessed with him, nor that you’ve been obsessively stalking him ever since…._

“Well, are we going to stand here all day?” Laurent chuckled, and Makoto realized how much his deep rumbling laugh sounded even better in person than it did in television interviews.

“Ah, apologies. Please come in.” Makoto allowed the man in, placing guest slippers in front of him, and found himself unable to look away from the man’s graceful, elegant form as he squatted over to untie his shoes instead of toe-ing them off like a slob.

“ _Tadaima_?” Laurent asked when he caught Makoto staring, his enunciation careful so as to not mess up the pronunciation.

Makoto laughed. “It’s more appropriate to say _Ojamashimasu_ in this case.” _However, I wouldn’t mind saying Tadaima to you, in the future._

“O-jama-?”

“Ojama-shimasu.” Makoto pronounced slower this time for Laurent, and smothered the chuckle that threatened to break free at the confused frown on the man’s face.

“Ugh, why are Japanese pronunciations so difficult?”

“Your Japanese is pretty good, Thierry san!” Makoto offered.

“Please call me Laurent,” the older man waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s what all you Japanese say to us foreigners to not make us feel bad about ourselves. I know all about your polite cynicism.”

“Ah no, Rauren...no, Laurent san,” Makoto blushed as he struggled to pronounce his first name with it’s complicated L and R’s. “I didn’t mean to offend..”

“Not offended.” Laurent smirked. “Your English isn’t half bad either. Learnt it from your father?”

“No, mom taught me.”

“Hmm, thought so. Oz doesn’t have an accent like you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Makoto asked, defensive.

“Nothing nothing.” Laurent ruffled his hair again, and Makoto shoved his hand off in a playfully-offended manner.

“What’re you two still doing here?” Makoto’s mother appeared at the entrance, wiping her hands on her apron worriedly. “Come come, the food’s getting cold.” 

“Ah, Miki san, you look wonderful as always.” Laurent kissed Makoto’s mother on the cheek, and Makoto gasped despite himself. _Shameless! This is Japan!_

“And you’re still such a flirt,” Miki laughed and pushed Laurent away, who pouted with a fake-hurt smile, and Makoto stomped off with a call off- “I’ll let papa know his friend is here.” Because that’s what Makoto wanted to go call his dad while his very handsome, and _much_ older crush was right there, flirting with his mom, and not because he was _jealous_ of his shamelessly suave crush flirting with his mom.

_Not at all._

* * *

“Mom, why is papa on tv?”

“Hmm, how can I explain this?” Miki tapped her index on her chin thoughtfully. How did one explain busting an international child-smuggling ring to a 5 year old? 

“Papa saved some children from being kidnapped by bad guys.”

“Oh. That’s so cool!” Makoto exclaimed. “So papa is a hero?”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Miki giggled.

“And who is that beside papa on tv?” Five year old Makoto asked his mother, curiosity making his eyes glitter. “Did he help papa defeat the bad guys too?”

Miki laughed, “That man is a friend of your father, Makoto.”

“No way!” Makoto gasped. “Papa’s friends with an angel?”

“He’s no angel sweetheart. His name is Laurent Thierry, and he’s a human, just like you and me.”

“But he looks just like the angel in my story book.” Makoto tried to defend the honour of his favourite angel.

“Aww,” Miki ruffled her son’s hair affectionately, “It’s just a coincidence baby.”

“Hmm..” Makoto watched, transfixed, as the man on screen continued to speak to a throng of reporters, composed and elegant even as he was being bombarded on all sides with questions in at least 5 different languages that Makoto could identify (thanks to his father’s insistence he be learn multiple languages). 

Laurent’s winter-sea blue eyes never stopped glittering, and his amicable yet firm smile never faltered, and Makoto found himself thinking… maybe his mom was wrong. Maybe she didn’t know that Laurent Thierry was a real angel.

* * *

Makoto peeked from the narrow gap between the curtains nervously, and watched as more people filed into the auditorium. He tugged on his bow tie nervously, its constricting loop around his neck now becoming a noose as he grew more and more nervous when he couldn’t spot the distinct mop of pale blond his eyes had been longing to see.

“You alright, Edamura?”

“...yeah I’m...fine.” Makoto lied, and sat down on the bench, sagging into the soft cushion underneath. Sighing just once, Makoto convinced himself to get himself sorted out- his performance was now. He couldn't screw this up. 

So what if Laurent didn’t come to his piano performance, even though he’d personally handed him the invitation card? Laurent’s schedule was free for the day- Makoto had made extra sure of that when he’d gone to Laurent’s temporary office to hand him the invite, and had stolen a picture of his planner while Laurent was busy making him coffee.

It’s not like Makoto was Laurent’s number one priority. He was a grown adult with a busy job- he didn’t have time to indulge the 16 year old son of his best friend. Even when the sole reason for said 16 year old taking up piano as a hobby, was because he’d accidentally chanced upon the information that Laurent loved listening to the piano. 

It didn’t matter that Makoto had hoped that him playing the piano would bring the two of them closer, would allow Laurent to see a cool side of Makoto, would finally make him acknowledge Makoto’s maturity and growth. So what if Makoto had spent endless nights praying that his performance would make Laurent fall for his piano skills, and in time, fall for him too.

Breathing deeply to dispel all distractions from his mind, Makoto let the curtains rise, let the announcer declare his name. And he allowed himself to get lost in the fantasies of his performance- in the rise and fall of rhythm, in the delicate swoops of the first movement, the playful opus of the second movement, and finally the agitating, ferocious crescendo of the third movement of Beethoven’s moonlight sonata. 

Cheers and applause filled the auditorium, and Makoto bowed at the audience, and exited the stage, moving to wipe his forehead on the sleeve of his coat.

Someone extended a napkin in his direction, and he thanked them wordlessly as he wiped his forehead and face on the tissue without even a “Thanks”.

“That was amazing!” 

Makoto’s tired, sleep-laden eyes snapped open. “Laurent san?”

“In the flesh, as you ordered.”

“You didn’t have to force yourself to..”

“It’s fine.” Laurent ruffled Makoto’s hair, ruining his mother’s hours of labour- toiling away at it with hair gel and a particularly thick comb- in less than seconds.

“I’m so happy you could make it!”

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Laurent wrapped Makoto into a tight embrace, causing him to squeak out, “I’m sweaty...”

“This is _good_ sweat. You did such a great job!” Laurent let go of his shoulders, and Makoto let out a sigh of relief. If his heart beat any louder, Laurent would be able to hear it and then Makoto doubts he could explain away his erratic heartbeat as just nerves. 

Makoto’s heart jumped to his throat when Laurent let go of his shoulders to take his hand instead, and dragged him out of the auditorium. “Critics will always focus on your presto agitato, which was excellent by the way. But the real trick to a phenomenal performance, nay, the trick to _perfection_ , is to play the calm, quiet chords well.” Laurent paused suddenly, causing Makoto to bump into his back. 

“I’m sorry, I ..”

“And you did it!” Laurent’s eyes were sparkling with untethered, unfiltered admiration, and Makoto stared back transfixed, felt himself hopelessly drowning in their blue depths. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you for a minute.”

* * *

  
  


Sighing, Makoto dug his hands down under the sheets, and hesitantly touched the aching bulge in his pants. He hissed- the contact seemed to only aggravate his _condition_ ; seemed like Makoto had no choice but deal with it if he wanted any sleep tonight.

He wondered if Laurent had noticed any of it- the way Makoto stared at him, the way he flushed red around him, the way he found excuses to get closer to him at every opportunity. Laurent, like everyone else around him, thought that Makoto was an innocent, naive teen. He wondered how Laurent would react if he realized the shameful debauchery Makoto was capable of while fantasizing about none other than Laurent himself.

Quickly, shamefully, Makoto stole a fleeting glance at his door, and noticing the door locked, he slowly pulled down his pyjama pants. Cold draft hit his overheated flesh, and he shivered as goosebumps rose on his flushed skin. Gingerly, he touched the tip of his half-erect manhood, and groaned as the touch sent fire up his spine, lit his whole body on fire. Touch starved and filled with want, he felt pre-cum ooze out of his aching cock. Impatient, Makoto sent his free hand rifling around on his nightstand for the bottle of lotion he kept there for such occasions. Finding what he was looking for, Makoto dribbled a generous amount of lotion onto his erection, and ever so slowly, wrapped his fingers around the heat of his flesh.

“Mmmh,” Hips bucking up into his fist at the pleasure of the sweet, sweet friction, Makoto groaned quietly to himself, and pumped himself fully. Heat rose from somewhere deep within, coiling under the pit of his stomach as Makoto continued to fist himself, starting from the base, all the way to the tip, and up again. He rocked into his hand rhythmically, setting up a pace, and as his eyes squeezed shut, his mind supplied his usual fantasies to him.

_“Edamame..” Such a horrible rendition of his name, yet Makoto could never find it in himself to complain. Not when he was looking at him this way- hooded, darkened eyes focused on Makoto’s disheveled, debauched, desperation._

_“Oh Edamame, you’re such a good boy!” The Laurent in his fantasies would coo, and Makoto would flush harder under his heated gaze, try to hide his shameful arousal._

_“Don’t be shy. Let me see.” Laurent would drag Makoto’s hands away from his body, hold them in a firm grip above his head, exposing his bare, naked skin to Laurent’s eyes. And unashamed, unabashed, Laurent would stare, and continue to stare as his heated gaze caused Makoto’s already swollen cock to swell more with arousal. “So beautiful.” Laurent would say as he kissed him, and Makoto would shiver. “So perfect.” Laurent would whisper into his lips as he pumped him, causing Makoto’s toes to curl, breath catching in his chest as pleasure would rise like a tidal wave about to hit. “Come for me, my precious Edamame.” Laurent would praise him and bring him to completion, and Makoto would come in Laurent’s arms, with his name a prayer, a chant on his lips._

“Laurent!” Makoto’s body convulsed, his mind filled with illusions of Laurent’s eyes, Laurent’s smile, Laurent’s smell, Laurent’s grip on him, and Makoto came with a long, drawn out groan, splashing his semen in thick streaks across his hands and abdomen.

Makoto wiped up the drying semen on himself with shaky, hasty hands and threw it towards the trash can carelessly. As his sweat-soaked skin cooled while he laid amidst the bunched pool of now-messy sheets on his empty bed, he tried to focus on getting some badly needed sleep, and not on the coldness of his lonely bed, nor on the sound of his quiet, shameful sobs as they filled the the confines of his empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm procrastinating on my assignments with writing angst. Yes, because that is a very healthy way to cope with stress.
> 
> P.s. If anyone is wondering- they have an age gap of approximately 15 years.
> 
> Leave a review or kudos or an "Ewww this shit nasty" if you've read so far, thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations available at end notes.

“Mmm, you _do_ have terrible taste.”

“EHH?!” Makoto jumped at the unexpected voice in his ear, dropping the tie in his hand in favour of shrieking a surprised- “L-Laurent san! What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I followed the invisible signs of distress you were shooting off, and it led me here?”

“No I won’t!”

“Worth a try.” Laurent shrugged, and leaned in close, causing Makoto to gulp nervously. “Actually, the manager called me urgently about a disaster here.”

“Oh?” The subtle scent of warm tropical summer, enticing coffee and a hint of mint wafted through Makoto’s nose, and Makoto realized he was breathing in Laurent’s cologne. His heart sped up, thudding so loud in his chest it felt like it was trying to break free. Laurent was dangerously close- Makoto could see each of the blonde’s pale eyelashes.

“W-what kind of disaster?” Makoto whispered through his suddenly parched lips.

Laurent drew closer, and Makoto shuddered as the man’s warm breath tickled his ear. “You don’t know?” Laurent lilted, playful, teasing.

Makoto gulped, and shook his head _‘No_ ,’ unable to speak.

“A **fashion** disaster.”

  
  


Laurent stole the _bouquet_ of ties under Makoto’s hand, and spared a dismissive glance at them before tossing them aside with an upturned nose. “ _Ça ne va pas!_ I can’t let you go to prom dressed like some peasant. You have to wow them, knock them dead!” The Frenchman grabbed Makoto’s hand and guided him to the more expensive, couture suits section of the boutique.

“But Laurent..”

“No buts. I’m choosing your suit for you. If I leave it up to you, you’re going to choose something hideous like that.” Laurent pointed vaguely at the tiny pile of mismatched articles of clothing they’d left behind at the aisle from where Laurent had kidnapped Makoto. “Or do you want to look like you rented a suit from a rental store?”

“I was actually considering that as a last resort.”

“ _Ça alors! Non non non.._ ” As usual, Laurent’s preferred tongue slipped out when he grew over-excited, chanting a mantra of ‘ _No_ ’s as he judged and discarded seemingly everything on display. Before Makoto had a chance to protest further, Laurent zipped through the aisles with practiced ease, and shoveled a handful of suits and matching ties onto Makoto’s arms, and finally pushed him into the fitting room. 

_“Jamais de la vie,non!_ Not on my watch. Now change!” 

  
  


Taking note of his surroundings, Makoto realized that it was natural that someone like Laurent was accustomed to shopping in places like these- couture tailor shops looked right up Laurent’s alley. 

The 18 year old looked down at his current attire- plaid shirt over a plain tshirt and overused and overwashed, faded jeans- he felt the hairs at his nape stand up in self-conscious embarrassment. With its gilded-bordered mirror and faux-velvet walls- even the fitting room looked like a parlor from a Victorian era castle!

  
  


A particularly loud snort caught Makoto’s ears, and he peeked out of a corner of the changing room to see what was going on outside. There Laurent was, dressed sharply in a three-piece suit and looking perfectly at ease as he rifled through collector’s edition clothing, chatting and laughing boisterously with the previously very intimidating-looking store clerk as if they were best buddies. 

Which, now that Makoto thought about it, was highly likely- given how friendly Laurent was, and how well-dressed he always looked- it wasn’t too far off an assumption to think that Laurent frequented Tokyo’s most famous men’s tailor whenever he needed to buy clothes. 

  
  


And well, you only needed to take one look at Makoto to know he didn’t belong here- this glittering, beautiful world of elites wasn’t a place for Makoto, and he would never be able to reach the pedestal upon which Laurent stood…

  
  


With a sigh, Makoto stepped out of the changing room for the 8th time that day. “How about this?”

“Hmm. It’s simple, but chic.” Laurent murmured, more to himself than for Makoto’s ears, and reached for the teen’s tie, leaning in to fix the haphazard mess Makoto had made of it. 

“Doesn’t scream _‘Look at me’_ but has a certain allure that draws you in.” Laurent finished fixing his tie and moved back a step, just enough to turn Makoto towards the mirror behind him, _still too close_. 

“Just like you, Edamame.” Makoto followed Laurent’s eyes in the mirror as they raked up and down his form, assessing, appraising. 

They locked eyes, and Laurent grinned at him. “I like it.”

“Me too.”

* * *

_Makoto blushed, and looked away, unable to hold the gaze._

_“Look at me.” He commanded, his tone dark, demanding, and Makoto obliged, helpless._

_The blond looked- sensuous, dangerous- as he tore off Makoto’s tie from the knot he’d put it in, and slotted them through the clothes’ hanger on the wall, effectively tying Makoto’s arms to it, trapping him in place._

_“W-what are you..?” Makoto yelped, covering Laurent’s hands when he started unbuckling his pants._

_“Uh uh. Calmez vous, s'il vous plaît.”_

_Laurent pulled Makoto’s shirt out of the confines of his pants, bunching them up and stuffing its edge into his mouth, shutting him up._

_“Wouldn’t want the clerk outside to hear you_ **_moan_ ** _.” Laurent supplied as a form of warning, and dove his hand into Makoto’s pants, caressing his leaking arousal with practiced ease._

_“Nnngh!” Makoto moaned into his gag. He’d been pent-up for so long, wanting, aching for Laurent to see him, to touch him, to fill him up._

_“Incroyable!” Laurent exclaimed as he pumped him, fingers expertly circling the girth of him while his other hand moved to the tip, poking at the precum gathered there. “You’re so wet already.”_

_Shivering in his bonds, Makoto’s fingers twitched as he struggled to relay his feelings with his actions:_

_It was too hot._

_He couldn’t breathe._

_What if someone came in right now?_

_They couldn’t do this._

Not here…

_Laurent needed to let him go._

Get away. 

_Or not._

Come closer.

_This wasn’t enough._

_He needed more..._

_As Laurent continued to jerk him off, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, Makoto realized- he didn’t know what he wanted anymore._

_Except._

_He knew one thing:_

He **wanted** Laurent.

  
  


_“Are you this excited because we could be seen anytime, by anyone?” Laurent, that_ **_bastard_ ** _, chuckled, and Makoto, his tongue trapped beneath the silk, shook his head in denial._

_“Liar.” Laurent laughed, removing the makeshift gag, and crashed his lips to Makoto’s._

“Mmgh. Laurent!” Makoto’s eyes shot open, and in that moment, he was very confused with his surroundings. 

Where was the coarse carpet that dug painfully into his back, the narrow red walls that cramped his neck, the floor to ceiling mirror which showed his shameful, wanton reflection as he was being urged to orgasm in Laurent’s masterful hands?

_Where was Laurent?_

Makoto looked at the clock on his wall.

**His** wall. 

Where hanged an expensive suit, handpicked for him by Laurent not too long ago that afternoon.

Right.

Makoto was **_dreaming_ **again.

Sighing, Makoto got up before his cum dried on his pants. 

With time, it got tougher to deal with it.

_“Are you thinking about semen, or your unrequited feelings?”_ The voice in his head whispered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some rough translations:**  
>  _Ça ne va pas_ \- This won't work.  
>  _Ça alors!_ \- An exclamation.  
>  _Jamais de la vie,non!_ \- Not in a million years, no.  
>  _Calmez vous, s'il vous plaît_ \- Be quiet, please.  
>  _Incroyable_ \- Incredible.  
> _____
> 
> This is the new norm for me- set a chapter limit, plot a story, decide on a posting schedule- then ignore all of them.
> 
> I promise I'll finish this fic in the next chapter. Or the one after that. Idk. But I **will** complete it.  
> You guys want more suffering Makoto right? Here: *updates fic*


	3. Chapter 3

Makoto matched the number plate again with the chit in his hand like he didn’t have it memorised already, nervous beyond his wits.

Blowing out air loudly through his nose, he steeled his nerves, and rang the bell.

“Coming!”

**_Crash_ ** . 

**Thud** .

  
  
  


_ “Oww…” _

Cautious, Makoto took a step back at the ominous sounds that escaped from under the door, and warily, he eyed the parcel in his hand as well as the exit, ready to run at a second’s warning.

After an eternity, the lock clicked and the door finally creaked open, and among the cloud of dust, appeared a dishevelled, distressed slob that vaguely resembled Makoto’s crush.

“Edamame?”

“Good morning Laurent san!” Makoto chirped, unable to hide the mirth in his voice- Laurent was surprised to see him! He’d never seen him surprised before! His day was  _ already  _ 100 times better. “Papa sent these over. He couldn’t come because he’s down with the flu, and..” Makoto gave Laurent a once over- messy hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed or combed in days, a scruffy, rumpled, barely buttoned together pajamas, mismatched socks and a pale fuzz on the man’s otherwise clean-shaved face paired with red eyes and a redder nose- “It appears you have it too.”

“That’s impossible. I never get sick- ah achoo!” Laurent sneezed, and sniffled.

Makoto handed him a tissue, before Laurent made a bigger mess of his clothes.

Wiping his nose, Laurent looked at the snot on the tissue with a grimace.“I guess you have a point.” He tossed the tissue behind him unceremoniously and looked in the parcel in Makoto’s hands. “Thanks for bringing these over, Edamura kun.” He made a move to take it from Makoto. Give them here and go back home before you catch it too.”

“Nope.” Makoto whirled away before Laurent had a chance to grab it. “No offense, but you look pathetic. I’m coming in.” The teen announced, and pushed his way past Laurent and into the apartment.

If it could even be called that.

Clothes and socks and shoes and discarded takeaway food boxes were everywhere Makoto looked, and he had barely crossed the foyer.

“Wow. You live like this?”

“Mmm, not all the time.” Sniffling. “My housekeeper is on sick leave. They have the flu, too.” The 30 something year old pouted like a petulant child, Makoto laughed despite himself.

Placing the documents on the tea table, Makoto took off his muffler and overcoat, hanging them on the clothes rack. Guessing the layout of the apartment, Makoto turned right, and blindly pawed around at the switch board.

“What are you doing Edamame?”

“You can’t get over your cold if you stuff yourself with instant ramen and takeout, Laurent san.” Makoto explained as he took out an apron from somewhere in Laurent’s house that even he wasn’t aware of, and opened the fridge door, peering at it thoughtfully. At length, he stood up, satisfied, and grinned cheekily up at Laurent. “How does chicken soup sound?”

“Non non. I can’t make you do this for me. I’ll…” Laurent grabbed Makoto’s arm, attempting to drag him away from the burner.

Makoto placed his finger on Laurent’s lips, shushing him. “No  _ Non _ -ing me. You’re sick. Come on.” He dragged the much bigger man by the arm to the seating area, and forced him to sit quietly. “You sit here and rest. And let me handle things. Okay?”

“But..”

“I won’t get sick, Laurent san. And I’m fairly decent at household chores.” Makoto plucked the stray sock out of Laurent's shirt-pocket.  _ How did it even get there?  _ “At least better than you, anyway.”

.

.

.

“Ittadakimasu.” Makoto announced as he placed the bowl of soup on the table, waking Laurent out of his slumber on his makeshift bed on the dining chair.

“Thanks Edamame,” Laurent slurred, hugging the blanket that Makoto must have draped on him sometime while he was asleep.

“Hey don’t fall asleep again. Eat it while it’s still hot.” Makoto poked Laurent, causing him to stir. “What do you say before you eat?”

“Bon appétit.”

“I guess that works too.” Makoto spent a minute taking in the way Laurent’s face lit up as the first sip of the warm, soothing liquid rushed past his lips, no doubt easing the soreness of throat that accompanied the common cold. Making sure Laurent wouldn’t burn himself by dozing off on the soup, Makoto poured himself some soup and dug in too. 

Comfortable quiet descended in the room, filled with nothing but the clinking of cutlery and the continuous whirr of the washing machine.

“I see you took the liberty of doing my laundry too.” Laurent commented after taking a cursory glance around himself.

“It’s the least I could do.” Makoto insisted as he got up, finished with his meal, and approached Laurent’s side of the table to take the dirty dishes away.

“Hmm.” Laurent drawled, and he reached out. Makoto’s breath hitched as Laurent’s thumb brushed against his bottom lip, lingering there for far longer than a second.

Bringing that very thumb to his mouth, Laurent licked it. “Délicieuse.”

_ What was that? _ “There’s more if you want to...” the teen trailed off, eyes locked with Laurent’s hooded ones. 

“You’d make a great wife.” Laurent teased.

“S-shut up.” Makoto turned around and stomped off, arms full of dishes, hiding his inflamed cheeks. 

* * *

“Happy birthday to me.” Makoto declared to the empty house, and sighed.

Did he regret happily sending off his parents to their 25th anniversary getaway with a jovial smile and proud boasts of- “It’s fine. I’m gonna be just fiiine! I’m an adult now. Go have fun you two! You deserve this break!!”- and other little lies despite knowing he’d be  _ terribly  _ alone on his 16th birthday?

_ A little. _

The sound of the doorbell ringing brought him out of his self-deprecating thoughts, and Makoto looked at the clock- it was just past mignight. Who could it be at  _ this  _ time of the night?

“Special delivery!” A muffled voice called from outside the door, and Makoto sighed- these delivery persons had  **no** sense of time.

Slipping his feet into slippers, Makoto trudged to the door, fully intending to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind. 

“It’s 12-fucking-AM at night! Who sends-” but the rest of the words died on his throat as the door swung open to reveal-

“Surprise!”

“LAURENT SAN!?”

“Happy birthday, Edamame!” The older man pulled Makoto into a suffocating, bone-crushing hug.

Makoto tried to hold on as long as he can, but finally gave up and tapped Laurent’s shoulders urgently when he’s out of air. 

“Haha you’re so cute.” Laurent cooed, pinching his cheeks as if he was still a baby. 

“I’m 16 now.” Makoto’s cheeks were not puffed up in indignation, and he was not offended Laurent was treating him like a child when he pushed his way into the apartment, locked the door, and dragged too many bags along with him, not letting Makoto take any of them, claiming them to be  _ ‘too heavy _ .’

“Wow, such a grown up.” Laurent gasped in faux-awe, as he placed the packages on and around the dining table, and stretched. “Living in this big house all by yourself.”

Makoto snapped his mouth shut and looked away before Laurent caught him staring at the narrow slip of skin on the older man’s stomach that got exposed when Laurent raised his arms to stretch.

“Papa is on vacation.” He explained, contemplating whether or not he should go through the bags. “So is mom.” He turned on the coffee maker, and brought out two coffee mugs. Knowing Laurent’s affinity towards coffee, he knew Laurent wouldn’t be able to refuse it, but still asked, “Coffee?”

“Thanks. Also, I knew they’re gone.” Laurent tucked his coat away, and grinned. “ **_I_ ** sent them.”

“...but they told me they won a lottery.”

“Mhmm, they wouldn’t accept it any other way.” 

“So you lied to them?” The raven made a show of angrily putting the mugs away, and turning off the coffee machine. He noticed the little pout Laurent directed his way, and huffed, looking away. 

He couldn’t help it- he  _ was  _ a little peeved that his parents had been deceived into leaving him all alone, but he wasn’t sure if his annoyance was misplaced. On the one hand, he was happy that they went on such a luxurious, romantic trip- they deserved to spend such an important milestone of their marriage together. He also acknowledged the fact that, if it were left up to them, they’d never take a vacation like that. However, it was true that they hadn’t wished him yet. It was way past 12am where they were now. The logical part of him tried to reason with him that maybe they were busy, or asleep. But his heart ached sadly at the thought of being forgotten. 

“So it’s your fault I’m all alone on my birthday..” Makoto mumbled to himself, but it seems Laurent still heard him, because he heard him chuckling from where he crouched around the bags.

He stood up and turned around, facing Makoto with a cheeky grin. “No you’re not. I’m here!”

On his hands was a mini strawberry shortcake, that read “Happy birthday.” And there was a single green bean beside the text, a bean that looked suspiciously like the nickname Laurent kept calling him despite his many protests.

“Oh.” Makoto said, too taken aback to say anything else. He hadn’t known, hadn’t realized Laurent knew, that he cared enough to remember his birthday. He hadn’t expected this, not even in his wildest dreams. 

“It’s normal to say Thank you at times like these.” Laurent teased.

“Thank you Laurent san!” Makoto’s grin was ear to ear, so blindingly bright that it did something to Laurent’s heart. He placed the cake down on the table, and with his hands now free, he cupped Makoto’s face in his hands affectionately.

The shorter teen looked up at him with his expressive brown eyes- surprise and anticipation swirling in their depths, and Laurent leaned in. 

Makoto’s eyes closed of their own accord, his heartbeat sped up, his breath hitching in his throat.

Soft lips descended on his forehead.

“Happy birthday, Edamame.”

Laurent moved away as if it was nothing, as if he hadn’t just rocked Makoto’s world off kilter. He set up the candle on the cake, and lit it using the matchbox on the kitchenette. “Make a wish.”

“I wish I get to spend more time with you like this.” Makoto blew out the candle, and Laurent clapped. 

“But you shouldn’t have said the wish out loud. They say it won’t come true.”

“But this one is up to you.” Makoto retorted, voice taunting, causing Laurent to laugh out loud, and ruffle his hair. “You’re still a cheeky little shit.”

_ “I wish you could see me. For who I am. For what I want. I wish you could love me like I love you.” _

* * *

_ “To Edamame, for inspiring me to never give up.” _

Makoto looked at the dedication page, brushing his fingers affectionately over Laurent’s flowy, cursive signature just below the text.

“You keep doing these things, Laurent san.” He spoke to the book, as he sat atop his bunk bed. “How am I supposed to not fall more in love with you?”

“Shut up lover boy.” His roommate grumbled from below, kicking her leg up and jostling their bunk bed.

“Sorry Abbey.” Makoto apologised, tucking the Laurent’s precious gift to him under his pillow, and turned off the lamp. “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute chapter before I break y'all's hearts in the next one :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerest apologies for the delay. As you can see, this chapter was massive so it took some time to whip into shape. Enjoy!

It was a cold, cold day- perhaps the coldest that year. Steam billowed up from the hot cocoa in Makoto’s mug, and he took a small sip of the scalding liquid, savoured the feeling of it running down his throat in a pleasant burn.

He’d been anxious, worried, and restless- tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. His flight was tomorrow, and here he was, grabbing a mug of hot cocoa at 1am from a coffee place that was decidedly far from his home. In fact, the place was very close to a particular person’s house, and as he walked around aimlessly to use up his nervous energy, Makoto’s legs subconsciously led him that way.

He stopped at the main entrance to the apartment complex, only then noticing his surroundings: He was back here, back in front of Laurent’s apartment complex. 

“What am I doing here?” Makoto asked aloud, smacking his own forehead.

  
  


The sound of loud argument and breaking glass caught his ears, and Makoto found his legs dragging him to the source of the commotion. _Was someone being harassed? Should he call the police?_

He arrived on scene just in time to hear a woman scream- “Go to hell!” Makoto winced as a resounding slap echoed along the hallways. 

He watched, dumbstruck, as the woman whose voice he’d heard from outside threw something small at the blond and stormed off, brushing past Makoto with rage emanating off her in waves.

The silhouette looked familiar, and concerned, Makoto stepped forward. “Are you alright?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been slapped.” The man chuckled deprecatingly as he crouched down and picked up the carelessly thrown object, and as Makoto stepped closer, the figure took clear shape.

“Oh Laurent san..” Makoto took in the blond’s dishevelled state- soaked to the bones and shivering in the cold, cut on his cheek that was slowly trickling blood. Shards of glass crunched under his feet as he approached, and he took in the item carefully clutched in Laurent’s palm, and he shook his head free of the many questions hovering there, opting instead to say- “Let’s get you inside.”

Makoto tugged the blond, and without any resistance, the blond followed him mechanically up the stairs, and into his own apartment. Even the door was unlocked, and the lights in the foyer and living rooms had been left on. _Just what had transpired here?_

_‘Questions later. Focus!’_ Internally reprimanding himself, Makoto led Laurent to his own bedroom, easing him to sit on the bed. He scrambled to turn on the lights, which wouldn’t work, and upon a closer inspection, he noticed their shattered remains among the scattered rubble around them: Laurent’s room looked like a cyclone had passed through it- broken vases, bent picture frames, and upturned furniture- it must have been quite an argument. Sighing, Makoto carefully made his way to the cabinet in the washroom and grabbed the first aid kit before returning to the impassive blond’s side. Who was shirtless now.

Carefully manoeuvring past the landmine of rubble on the floor, Makoto approached Laurent sitting on the bed, lost in thought. “Tell me if it hurts.” He warned, and applied ointment to the visible cuts on his face and skin. Being this close to Laurent was overwhelming, and that too in his bedroom, on his bed, all alone, just the two of them- while the other sat half-naked, just centimeters away from him. 

It made Makoto’s heart do somersaults in his chest, but he told himself to calm down- it wouldn’t be good if his hands shook and he ended up injuring Laurent further. 

Strong smell of alcohol wafted up from Laurent, and Makoto couldn’t help scrunch his nose- the older man must have been drinking earlier. _Earlier._ . Had he been drinking with _that woman_? 

  
  
  


In all the time Makoto had spent around Laurent, trailing after him like a lovestruck teen, stalking his social media with the dedication of a fanboy, he had never seen her pop up anywhere before. Is it because she’s so insignificant that Laurent didn’t bother mentioning her? Or does it make her _that much_ special?

Come to think of it, Makoto had no idea about the women in Laurent’s life. Sure, he gave off the aura of a charming playboy who went about hitting on anything that moved. And while it was another one of those things that normally turned people off, Makoto found it to be extremely attractive. 

Sure, he never stayed in one place too long- his job as a diplomat meant he had to move around quite a lot. Was he like one of those telltale sailors that “had a woman at every port?” For all his flirty ways, Laurent wasn’t very public about his relationships- so Makoto had very little clue to go on. 

However, he did know this- a woman that Laurent trusted enough to bring home, that he was drinking with, that stayed over this late? What other explanation was there to it other than- 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Laurent said without preamble, breaking Makoto’s train of thoughts. “Well at least she _was_.” The man lifted his open palm up for Makoto to see- on it was an ornate gold ring, embedded with a magnificent blue-green emerald stone, the likes of which Makoto had never seen before.

“It’s beautiful.” Makoto said, purposefully injecting awe in his voice to hide the twinge of sadness that bubbled up as the meaning of such a ring became clear. _He was serious about her._

It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to him- Makoto knew Laurent was bisexual. To think, no, to hope that Laurent would fall for him- a scrawny, awkward teenager with no redeemable qualities, was far-fetched if not impossible. His mind chose that moment to supply him with an image of Laurent and the woman whom he’d glimpsed earlier, standing side by side, holding each other romantically, and he sighed as he realized how good they looked together, how well they suited each other. Makoto looked at his reflection past Laurent in the mirror- messy curls, thick rimmed glasses and dark circles that spoke of the countless nights he’d spent awake studying for his finals, he was hardly a match for Laurent. No, Laurent deserved an attractive, voluptuous beauty like the woman earlier.

“It wasn’t enough for Dorothy.” Laurent dropped the ring on the bed, and closed his eyes, exhaling out a half-sob.

Wanting to comfort him, but unsure how to go about doing that, Makoto pretended to continue treating Laurent’s cut. Despite himself, his hand lingered around the wound- ‘It must hurt,’ Makoto thought, ‘it must hurt more than it hurts me to see you like this.’

  
  


“It doesn’t hurt.” Laurent replied, and Makoto only then realized he’d said his thoughts out loud.

“That’s good.” Makoto said awkwardly, hurrying to put away the first aid kit, cheeks inflamed.

“Sorry for scaring you, Edamame.”

“I wasn’t….” Makoto sighed. “You have nothing to apologize for. I just happened to be here and...” Makoto trailed off as Laurent’s hand reached up to cup his face. 

“I’m always taking advantage of your kindness.” A thumb caressed the side of his cheek softly. "No matter how much I ignore you.." The thumb travelled from the side of his face, past his cheek, trailing fire in its wake, and Makoto’s heart sped up, thudding erratically in his chest. "Yet you're always there for me."

“Ah no, it’s nothing.” Distractedly, Makoto tried to explain away his erratic heartbeats as the exploring thumb travelled to the underside of his bottom lip. “I like doing things for you, I like y-” He gasped to a halt as he almost spoke his feelings out loud distracted by Laurent's ministrations. 

“Mm,” Eyes closed, Laurent ducked in, touching his lips to Makoto’s, and his heart sputtered to a stop. _He was being kissed!_ Laurent _was kissing_ him _!_

  
  


Most of Makoto’s experience regarding love is from shoujo mangas and television dramas. He’d seen movies and dramas and songs gush about your toes curling, about your eyes fluttering closed when being kissed, about your leg popping. 

For Makoto, this was nothing like that. He’d dreamt about this very moment many, many times in his life- the moment Laurent would forget the world around them, the moment Laurent would wrap his hands around him, the moment Laurent would kiss him like his life depended on it, like he was the most important person in his life.

Makoto couldn’t risk closing his eyes- _he didn't dare miss a single second of this!_

  
  


So when Laurent kissed him, Makoto’s eyes were wide open- taking in Laurent’s face, the way his eyelid fluttered while closed, the way he exhaled onto Makoto’s face when he let go, the thin string of saliva that stretched between them when they broke apart.

Out of breath, Makoto started to speak up, “Um, Laurent san, are you sure about thi-” but was cut off, his question trailing off into a garbled moan when Laurent latched on to his collarbone. The older man nipped and suckled and licked on the same spot, causing Makoto’s thoughts to steer to a shuddering stop. “HAH!” He breathed out, clutching Laurent’s arms with shaking hands of his own, inadvertently encouraging the man to go further with his confused compliance.

Unable to take his eyes off the enchanting blond, Makoto kept his eyes glued to Laurent as he continued to abuse his nape, while his hands went about untucking Makoto’s shirt from his pants, making short work of his clothing. The raven shivered as cold air from the open windows brushed against his skin, or maybe at the way Laurent stared him.

Forever self-conscious about his body, Makoto’s hands moved to cover his chest, legs folding in on themselves to hide his crotch (and his shameful, traitorous arousal). _What must Laurent think- he was all skin and bones, hard angles and pale skin- not at all like the woman from before. And getting a hard on from just a simple kiss? He must be laughing inside, thinking this is a mistake-_

“Let me see.” Laurent said, surprising him, and tugged his hands away, looming over him as he took in Makoto’s dishevelled appearance. “Hmm,” he hummed appreciatively, and leaned down to look closer at Makoto’s chest. “Pretty pink.” He commented, making Makoto flush harder, looking away in embarrassment. “Don’t look.... Ah!” Makoto gasped at the sudden feeling of Laurent’s hot mouth engulfing his nipple.

Why was Makoto’s body reacting like this when Laurent was playing with his nipples? Why did Laurent sucking and flicking and tugging at them alternatively cause sparks to climb up his spine, making his member twitch and swell, make his body pulse with desire?

“That’s a nice reaction.” Laurent said, leaning back, appreciating the view- Makoto’s nubs were swollen and perked up, begging to be devoured, just like the rest of him. Flicking them playfully with his nails earned a surprised yelp from the smaller man underneath him, and Laurent laughed, before he dragged his tongue downwards. 

Trailing hotly down his quivering stomach, the blond dipping a tongue inside his navel, making Makoto shudder and gasp. “You’re so sensitive.” The older man laughed, and his warm breath and hot hands on Makoto’s waist made Makoto squirm even harder when they journeyed downwards, exploring, massaging, urging him into a deeper state of arousal as they moved closer and closer to his erection.

But they went past it- past his now stiff and weeping member, all the way down to his entrance, smoothing his fingers over the puckered skin. 

“Turn over.” Laurent commanded out of nowhere, clipped and cold, catching the younger man by surprise. 

“What-?” Makoto started, startled, as he was flipped onto his stomach. _No, he couldn’t see this way. He wanted to see Laurent-_

The strong hands returned to his waist, raising his hips, and a lubed finger entered him without warning, causing him to groan loudly at the sudden, painful intrusion. The blond’s hand grabbed his hair and pushed his face deeper into the pillow, muffling his voice, consequently making it difficult for him to breathe. 

Disoriented and out of breath, Makoto was caught unaware when something hard and hot poked at his entrance. “Wait, I- hnngh..” Makoto’s cry was cut off, becoming a muffled groan as he was suddenly filled to the brim as Laurent pushed in, without warning, burying himself to the hilt inside him. 

Tears gathered at his eyes, the painful haze of the feeling of being split open chasing away the pleasurable fog in his veins. He blinked away the tears, lifted his head and tried to look back at Laurent in confusion- _Had he done something wrong? Why was he being so forceful so suddenly?_

But the hand on his hair had a tighter grip than he’d anticipated, and Makoto couldn’t do much other than twist his head sideways in an attempt to breathe easier. He felt the hold on his waist pull him closer, and felt the hardness shift inside him, and he breathed in deeply in anticipation. 

As abruptly as he’d entered, Laurent started to pull out, causing the raven to breathe out a sigh of relief. _Maybe Laurent had realized he was in pain, maybe he was pulling out because he didn’t want Makoto to suffer when he wasn’t ready-_

The blond however, stopped before he was completely out, causing Makoto to whine at the strain.

“So tight.” Laurent growled into Makoto’s ears, the arousal-laced deeper baritone of his voice making Makoto’s muscles clench down on the intrusion inside him. “So good.” 

Whimpering at the praise, the raven’s body involuntarily relaxed in response to the words Laurent chose to growl into his ears. It was as if he knew just what buttons to push to draw a reaction from Makoto, and as the blond’s touch became gentle again, Makoto couldn’t help but squirm as heat once again began to pool at the bottom of his stomach. Fingers rubbing circles across the dip of Makoto’s hip bones, Laurent gradually eased himself deeper again into the raven’s now-relaxed body, giving him time to adjust inch by inch.

Pain dissipating as pleasure rushed in to take its place, Makoto lay there pliant and panting, fingers clutching the pillow underneath him as Laurent rocked in and out of him, setting up a gentle rhythm. A particularly hard thrust had Makoto gasping aloud, had him twitch and shudder, hips involuntarily snapping back to meet Laurent’s. 

Encouraged by Makoto’s enthusiasm, Laurent’s pace increased, causing him to moan, drawn out, loud, his low keen reverberating across the walls of the room. “Ahhng-mmh.” 

The hand returned to his head to push it remorselessly into the pillow, muffling his voice, nearly causing him to suffocate. The loud, obscene squelch of skin meeting skin, of Laurent’s frenzied thrusts and harsh panting filled the room. Makoto felt overwhelmed as the air grew suffocating, the heat in his veins and the lack of air in his lungs making him lightheaded. Something unfamiliar, pleasurable yet sinful, coiled and tightened in his stomach, and when Laurent brushed a particular sensitive bundle of nerves inside him, Makoto clenched down so hard against Laurent’s cock that it urged him to completion. 

Wordless, Laurent jolted and pulsed to heat inside the body under him, and the heated bulge of Laurent’s cum filling the condom inside him, straining to spill out, drew Makoto’s orgasm out of him. 

Hips bucking, toes curling, Makoto was overwhelmed by the intensity of his release as he convulsed and spilled himself all over the bedsheet and across his stomach.

  
  


Slow, sleepy kisses on his shoulder and neck stirred Makoto from the heated buzz of his aftermath, and he opened drowsy eyes to try to focus his attention on the voice humming sweet nothings into his ear. 

“...so good. Si beau mon amour. You felt amazing. Je t'aime...” A gentle tug on his chin, and Laurent was kissing him again, a loving, longing kiss before Laurent dozed off with.. “I love you Dorothy.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

“Stop vibrating like a chihuahua.”

“I’m not…” Makoto started to defend himself, but had to stop to dodge the flying luggage that his roommate and friend had thrown at him. “Abbie, that’s dangerous!”

“You can’t even sit still for 5 minutes- your sleep deprivation is making you twitchier than usual.”

“I... slept…”

“ _I_ couldn’t sleep because of your restless shifting all night.”

“I’m sorry, Abbie. I’m just excited to be going back home.” Makoto’s grin was ear to ear. “I’ve never stayed away this long from mom, dad... _Laurent_..” That last name was spoken softly, under his breath, and there was a slight redness to his cheeks and sparkle in his eyes that Abbie had learnt to recognize over the time as Makoto’s fanboy/crush. “I hope he’ll be proud of me following his footsteps, Abbie. I hope I get to work with him- shoulder to shoulder. He’ll have no choice but to acknowledge me then.” Makoto’s voice shook slightly near the end, and Abigail sighed.

“Get some sleep.” She bonked him on the head. “The flight is an hour late. I’ll wake you up.”

* * *

The doorbell rang loudly throughout the house, and as Makoto bounded down the stairs, taking two at a time in his excitement, he was hit with a wave of nostalgia. 

Waiting for Laurent to visit, finding every opportunity to get close to him- Makoto had been quite shameless in the way he pursued the older man. 

Makoto didn't know how to act around Laurent after the eventful night they'd spent together- it was his first time, and Laurent has been drunk and had called out his ex's name.

Heartbroken, Makoto had left Laurent's bed that night, and had left for his internship abroad without a good bye. 

He'd dived into his studies, focusing all his time and energy on his work in an attempt to forget the blond. But despite his best efforts to get over the man, Makoto's attraction to him only grew with time. 

And now here he was, fixing his hair on the hallway mirror one last time, before opening the door to the same blond hair, blue eyes that he'd dreamt of while he was away for the year. 

  
  


"EDAMAME!" Laurent engulfed him into a bone crushing hug, and Makoto giggled and wheezed at the overt display of affection. "I can't breathe, Laurent san."

"You've grown up! New hairstyle? I dig it." Laurent ruffled and messed up the unruly bangs that Makoto hadn't had the time to trim off and had swept into a messy back-brush. Laurent hugged him again, planting a kiss on his hair. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too." Makoto returned the hug, melting into the embrace that he'd longed for, that he'd imagined waking up to in every fever dream he'd had since forever.

"Where's Oz? Where's Miki? I have something exciting to tell them." Laurent trotted into the house without being prompted, and Makoto giggled at the bounce in Laurent's step, arranging the shoes in the doorway in a neat file before joining everyone in the kitchen.

He poked his head into the kitchen, his eyes zero-ing in on the emerald-studded ring on Laurent's finger, and he was just in time to hear Laurent announce:

"Dorothy said yes!"

Even the ecstatic glitter in Laurent's eyes couldn't stop the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when Laurent turned to him to gush, "I'm getting married to the love of my life!"

* * *

The cacophony of church bells echoed across the lawn, breaking through the white noise of the birds' quiet chirping and the guests' impatient murmurs as they waited in their seats. 

"What's taking them so long?" Ozaki tapped his foot worriedly, and turned to Makoto. "Go to the groom's chamber. Tell him the guests are getting agitated. I'll deal with Dorothy."

"But father…"

Ozaki had already left, and with a sigh, Makoto did as instructed. Mustering up all the courage in his bones, he knocked.

The door swung inward, revealing a haggard, and distressed-looking groom.

"Where's your tie?"

"Oh thank goodness you're here. My hands are shaking so bad I can't even knot my tie."

Makoto stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and picked up the silk tie lying unceremoniously on the bedside table. 

He reached up wordlessly, effortlessly looping the tie into a perfect knot, all while avoiding looking into steel blue eyes filled with love, but for someone else.

"All done." Makoto said, and stepped back. "The guests are getting impatient. Please come out soon.. what are you doing?" Makoto glared at the hand on his arm, and was forced to finally look at the man who it belonged to. 

"Hey." Laurent said. "Why won't you look at me?" He touched his chin gently, turning his face until their gazes met. "Do I look that ugly?"

Makoto made a show of gazing Laurent up and down, and gave an over-dramatic sigh. "7 out of 10." He teased, careful not to let emotions seep into his voice. 

"You're so hard to please." Laurent laughed, and leaned in, catching Makoto by surprise when soft lips descended on his. 

Hot breath on his cheeks, the intoxicating smell of the familiar musk and a rough hand on his waist- and Makoto jolted, breaking apart. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm sorry, Edamame, I.." Laurent made a grab at Makoto's hand, but he snatched it free forcefully. "No. Don't apologise when you don't even mean it." 

  
  


"We're done."

* * *

The park was empty. 

An unusual sight, given how the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Maktoto breathed in deep, taking in the sweet smell and cool air, and sighed. It had been a while since he'd been back in Japan. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

With a content sigh, Makoto took his seat on the occupied park bench, finally acknowledging the presence of the other person.

"You haven't aged a day since I'd last seen you."

"And you look like an old man with the white streaks in your hair and your scruffy beard." Makoto taunted back, and laughed at the way his remorseless comment made the blond's shoulder crumple in defeat. 

“What’re you saying? The ladies dig it.” Laurent tried to defend himself, and Makoto hummed in a non-committal-‘I know you’re lying but I won’t call you out on it’-way.

They could stay like this- the usual teasing and the playful banter- like things were back to normal.

But Laurent had to reach his hand out to take Makoto’s in his palm, and Makoto as always, was weak when it came to the blond.

Laurent squeezed his hand apologetically. "I'm sorry for everything, Makoto." The blond sounded honest, earnest, and Makoto sighed, and extracted his hand from the grip, ignored the look of hurt that flitted past the blond’s face at the action.

"You must have known how I felt about you. And yet you led me on. You never intended to be with me." Makoto didn’t look at Laurent. Couldn’t look at him- couldn’t allow his conviction to waver.

"I'm sorry I dismissed your feelings when I wasn't even sure about my own…" Laurent reached out once again, but hesitated at the stiff, cold shoulders, and retracted his hands. He got up from his seat, crouching down in front of Makoto to meet his eyes. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did." Makoto looked him in the eyes then, his gaze clear, not accusatory, not even angry. Laurent felt a shiver down his spine- the look in the raven’s usually expressive eyes, his uncharacteristically stoic countenance- cold, devoid of emotions- after all, Makoto was just stating facts. "You treated me like a child." 

Makoto took in the absence of a ring on Laurent's finger, and sighed. "I don't want to be a replacement to you."

He got up, and cracked a wry smile. "I used to love you."

_I still do._

"But not anymore."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely thankful to all of you for reading and reviewing! Please let me know what you think of the ending. Too harsh? Not harsh enough? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again for reading! See you all in another fic. :*


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